The Innocence
by Ricquie
Summary: Four years after Voldemorts fall, Snape returns to England from Canada. Eight years later, his daughter wants to know why he never came back. (November 11th - Lest We Forget)
1. Prologue

A/N : I don't like Authors Notes. They're against my religion. So is using the correct form of its/it's. Really? No. But I don't like 'em. Anyway, just don't come to expect Authors notes or proper grammar, and you won't be disappointed. All I have to say right now is the Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter, although we all know I could do a better job than J.K. any day.  
  
Okay, so I lied. J.K. is a genius and I'm a thirteen-year-old wannabe. Oh well.  
  
Note - I've edited this and reposted it; it was rather painful for even myself to look at before. Also, I've got the next chapter written, it should be up late today or tomorrow.  
  
  
  
This man was not welcome.  
  
"You deserted us, Severus. Ran when the coals grew hot and hid..." The man motioned towards the middle-class house around him distastefully. "...here."  
  
"Apparently you did no different, Lucius, seeing as the dementors aren't breathing down your neck." Severus' lip curled. "And I am not hiding."  
  
The returned smile was neither kind nor reassuring. "Whatever you say, /friend/."  
  
A sudden clatter drew their attention from each other. At the base of the stairs a young girl was picking herself up, a guilty expression on her face. Apparently she'd been trying to sneak quietly down the stairs, but, as young children are prone to do, had slipped clumsily on one of the lower stairs.  
  
Severus gave her a stern look, and the girl looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. "You're supposed to be going to sleep." Severus said in a low voice, shifting his gaze pointedly to the stairs.  
  
Lucius laughed dryly. "Babysitting, Severus?" He caught the other mans gaze in his own. "Or is it perhaps your own? I wouldn't have thought you the type, but I do see the family resemblance." He made a motion of dismissal. "Leave the child be, curiosity can be an admirable trait."  
  
The Tales of Hypocrisy, Severus thought sourly. He could imagine what would have happened had it been Lucius' child.  
  
Lucius motioned the child towards him, and the girls eyes widened, but she remained rooted to the spot. "Come now child, I won't hurt you." Perhaps not, but Severus knew too much of Lucius' past to trust the man. However, the cold glare on his face went unnoticed, and the girl, no more than five, moved forward with hesitant steps.  
  
"Lucius..." Severus warned. He was once again ignored.  
  
"Such a beautiful child..." Lucius murmured, reaching out to pat the soft curls atop her head. "Takes after the mother, I presume?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What is your name?" He addressed the child.  
  
She glanced nervously at her father, who remained glaring at Lucius, then turned back to said person. "Renee..." she muttered in a quiet voice.  
  
Lucius merely nodded, "I have a son your age, perhaps you shall be introduced." Renee's face brightened. She didn't understand this man, why even his smile was glazed with insincerity, but she understood a new friend.  
  
"I would like that, sir." A faint French accent was discernable in her words.  
  
"I'm sure you would." But Lucius had lost interest in the child, and he turned again to Severus. "A summons." He said shortly, sliding a letter across the table. "You stand accused of being a Death Eater, loyal to Lord Voldemort." Lucius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Who would possibly think that?"  
  
Severus looked somewhat less than amused; he eyed the letter apprehensively before pointedly ignoring it. "My question precisely. I thought my name was cleared along with the initial investigation."  
  
Lucius shrugged indifferently. "Probably just an excuse to return you to England. You know they don't like anyone straying too far. I don't believe they much enjoy keeping tabs on Eskimo's living up in Canada. Especially potentially dangerous ones." The amused glimmer had returned to Lucius' eyes.  
  
Severus was used to the stereotype. "Armed with harpoons and attacks dogs, I'm sure." Truth be told, he wasn't much for the climate up here. Beautiful country, yes, but lately he'd been longing for the familiarity of England. He'd come here to escape the oppression Voldemort cast even after his obliteration by the Potter boy, but perhaps now, four years later, it was safe to return. He rose from his seat.  
  
Lucius, thankfully, took the hint, and followed suit, making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly as he reached it, turning back towards the occupants of the house. Renee was still standing obediently beside the table, and Severus was not four steps behind Lucius, arms crossed and brows furrowed. "Be there Severus. This is no country for you, and no one likes a coward."  
  
This man most definitely was not welcome.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Severus pulled weakly at the bonds tying him to the chair. No, no, no, no, no... The endless chant scrolled through his mind, until the words were nearly visible across the back of his closed eyelids, until they seemed to whisper past his ears, and until he could almost taste them upon his dry tongue.  
  
"Witness accounts state that the accused was at the scene of many muggle killings..."  
  
He listened with ears that didn't want to hear, a mind that didn't want to believe, to the voices that provided evidence against him. Voices that didn't care about his fate beyond this courtroom, voices that didn't care about his life, about everything he'd done to /help/, not destroy them, or even about Meara, and Renee. Oh god, Meara...  
  
"Questioning of imprisoned Death Eaters, under the influence of a truth serum, further proves the accused involvement with the Dark Lord..."  
  
He wanted to say something, something that would help him, something that would help him, something that would help /her/. He didn't want Meara to have to live like that. To know that she'd married someone like him, someone so /disgusting/. To hear from someone else what he'd never had the courage to tell her himself.  
  
"The accused also stands trial against the charges of using Veritaserum to acquire information used to thwart the Ministry of Magic..."  
  
But he couldn't think. The dementors beside him sucked everything from him, even the words that could possibly free him from this hell. His mind raced to find something to say on his behalf, but it seemed stumble in every pothole along the way. He wanted to hold his head in his hands and scream, but both the bonds and his pride held him back.  
  
"The accused, Severus Snape, is found guilty of all charges, and is sentenced to..."  
  
As Crouch spoke these words, Severus found the energy, through his rampaging thoughts, to sit up a little straighter, to curl his lip and to glare at Crouch. Yet still he tried, failing, to form words through his dry throat and mouth.  
  
"No."  
  
Severus blinked. That single word had been accompanied by a loud crash, like the thunder he heard roaring in his head as the sentence was proclaimed. The door had been slammed open, and Dumbledore strode through it, nothing merry about his stance. Dumbledore. For a moment, he failed to realize what was the significance of this was. But only for a moment.  
  
Thank God...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dear Mr. Snape  
  
We regret to inform you of the death of your wife, Mrs. Meara P. Snape. We offer our deepest consolations, and our most sincere hopes that you are able to get through this most saddening time.  
  
Your wife died of unknown causes Thursday evening, in a muggle hospital in the province of Quebec, Canada. We are doing all we can to look into the matter, although it is unlikely that any certain conclusions will be obtained.  
  
However, there is the issue of your daughter, Renee Snape. For the time being, she is being cared for in a foster home. If you cannot find the means to travel here, arrangements can be made to send her to London, England. In either case, please respond so that the situation can be properly assessed and dealt with.  
  
Once again, I offer my most sincere consolations, and if you require anything, do not hesitate to contact me directly.  
  
Yours Sincerely, Judith Harwood 


	2. Worth the wait

A/N - I have nothing to say. Just r/r please, even if it's just to shut me up.  
  
  
  
Renee sat upon a bench at Kings Cross Station, hood drawn up over her head and playing absently with the strings of her sweater. Every so often she would brush an auburn streaked brown curl out of her face, and wipe tiredly at her eyes, so dark a brown they almost appeared black.  
  
She glanced at a nearby clock; it was ten o'clock. She sighed and her fingers once again left the strings and rubbed at the side of her nose, the centerpiece of a rather defined face, with pale pink lips and high cheekbones. Her eyebrows were thin and arched, and the eyes they topped glanced wearily at the space between platforms nine and ten. She figured she could board in half an hour. She'd already been here for, oh, hours already. /He/ had brought her here early, very early. It had been midnight where she lived - used to live - in Quebec, Canada, when she had left, and when they arrived the time in London had been four in the morning. He had not been with her when she'd arrived, though He'd been the one who brought her. It seemed He could never remain past three, and it seemed time change applied even to Him.  
  
Who He was, Renee could not quite say. 'He' was the only way in which she thought of Him, never had a name been necessary, or given, for she never spoke of Him to anyone. He was hers and hers alone, her secret, just as she was His.  
  
To anyone else, it may seem that they were lovers, it was not so. He had always been there, not aging a day, it seemed, ever since she was a child. Ever since her mother died... she remembered that day, oh, how she remembered. That had been the first time she'd ever truly cried, the first time she'd felt that kind of loss and helplessness, cried because it had never hurt so much on the inside. He had been there, comforting, just as he still is. When she cried, and even when she didn't, when she steeled herself and refused to show emotion, he knew, he came, and he provided affection. Not the affection of a mother or father, a sister or brother and not the affection of a lover. She didn't know quite how to place it. It was just, affection, plain and simple.  
  
The only condition was that she kept her eyes shut in his presence. It was an unspoken rule that she had somehow always known. She didn't understand the reasoning behind it, but it was a small price to pay for his comfort, and so she obeyed without question.  
  
Renee glanced once again at the clock. It was twenty after. She'd board in ten minutes. Her gaze wandered again, and she unconsciously began playing with the strings of her sweater once again. The red phase screech owl tied to her wrist by jesses and anklet hooted softly, begging treats, and drew the attention of a passing muggle, whom she glared at while slipping the owl a morsel.  
  
Finally, as the long hand on the clock neared the six, she gathered up her sole duffel bag and stood, stretching out the kinks in her muscles. Casually she walked through the barrier to platform 9 3/4, noting as she did that more children, owls with many of them, had begun drifting her way, no doubt Hogwarts Students.  
  
The platform was just beginning to fill up, and Renee quickly found an empty compartment, dropping her bag carelessly on the floor and flopping tiredly onto the cushioned seat. Her owl, Fukurou, made a sound of annoyance and resettled on her fist. Eyes half closed, Renee slumped against the window and stroked the soft feathers on his stomach in apology. She turned her head to the window and watched absently as more students and their parents filtered onto the platform, sparing a brief nod to three who joined her in the compartment. They, in turn, offered no more than brief introductions, and when the train began moving, they were engaged in a game of wizard's chess.  
  
Renee merely stared out the window for the beginning of the journey, buying nothing when the cart rolled by and offered treats. However, her silent reverie was broken as one of them spoke rather awkwardly to her.  
  
"So...um...that's a nice owl. What's his name?"  
  
"Fukurou."  
  
The boy nodded uncomfortably, looking for something else to say in the hollow silence that followed. He was saved, however, by the girl Renee remembered to be named Mandy.  
  
"Fukurou?" Renee vaguely wondered if there was an echo in here. "Isn't that Japanese? Meaning..." The girls eyebrows furrowed as she thought. "...owl? That's kind of weird, don't you think? I mean, it's like calling your dog, 'dog', or your cat, 'cat'."  
  
Renee considered snapping bad temperedly at the girl, but instead merely gave her a mild look of disdain and turned back to the window.  
  
Few words were shared from that point on. Occasionally Renee pulled herself out of her thoughts long enough to give one person or another a brief suggestion on their chess match, but for the most part she just sat and watched. Mandy appeared to be the reigning champion so far, but as Terry, the first boy who had spoken, moved in to place her in check, the train ground to a stop, the chess board sliding off the seat before anyone thought to catch it. With a few muttered curses all three of them got down on their hands and knees to retrieve the pieces which were all scurrying rapidly for cover.  
  
And then a deathly silence filled the compartment as the lights went out, casting them all into darkness.  
  
No one moved inside the compartment, listening intently to people yelling questions out of their compartments, but no answers seemed to be given. Then slowly, her companions returned to their seats, all but one (it was impossible to tell who in the dark) who felt their way to the door and opened it, joining the yelled conversation which seemed to be yielding no conclusion.  
  
"Ouch!" There were sounds of someone being knocked roughly into the wall.  
  
"What?" Mandy's voice was discernable in the gloom, but was ignored by the person at the door and the newcomer.  
  
"Watch where you're going! Who is that?"  
  
"Terence."  
  
"Higgs?"  
  
"Yeah. You guys know what's going on?"  
  
"No more than anyone else, it seems." As Renee's eyes adjusted, she was able to make out a male form in the dark. As he entered the compartment and turned to close the door, Renee was overcome by an overwhelming sense of dread. His hand halted as it touched the handle.  
  
"Do you feel that?"  
  
Terence's question went unanswered, for not a second had passed when a dark shape walked, no, floated past their compartment.  
  
Renee was cold. That was all she could think. Her eyes unfocused and she shivered, before she tensed and images passed before her eyes so vividly it didn't seem to matter that they were still open, wide with shock.  
  
/A blond man, cold smile and even colder eyes, taking her father away, sending him to London.../  
  
/The sickeningly white walls, and the doctor, telling her that her mother had died.../  
  
/The realization that her father wasn't coming back.../  
  
/The foster homes, the beatings, the blame, and when she couldn't take it anymore, the streets.../  
  
And then it was over.  
  
'Kurou, sitting on her knee, hooted questioningly, if rather meekly, as he also trembled, preening his feathers in agitation.  
  
Unsteadily, she hugged the owl to her chest, as best as one can hug an owl, and said nothing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Renee stood outside the doors of the great hall, listening indifferently to the chatter inside. As the sorting was concluded, she caught the smell of a great feast, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. Mentally commanding her stomach to be silent, she reached into the duffel bag at her side, pulling out a rather insignificant looking paper, yellowing and somewhat worn around the edges. Scanning down the page, she found the familiar line and glared at it bad-temperedly.  
  
Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts  
  
The sole line had gotten her this far, but that was hardly enough. Professor, it read. Could it not have been more specific? This castle was huge, probably even bigger than it outwardly appeared. It was a magical building, after all. How was she to know where to begin looking? Her five year old self remembered next to nothing of her father, not what subject he would most likely be teaching, nor even what he looked like. And she most certainly was not about to barge in among all those people and demand to know which one of them he was.  
  
Sighing, she stuffed the paper back into the duffel bag and began her own investigation of the school.  
  
Not ten minutes later she found herself back at the great hall for the third or fourth time. Growling under her breath, barely restraining the urge to kick at a nearby suit of armor, she walked up a flight of stairs she was sure she hadn't been up before.  
  
Suddenly she stiffened, listening motionless to the sound of clicking shoes behind her. As they neared, she ducked through a door and pressed herself against the interior wall, holding her breath. She listened, teeth clenched, as the footsteps approached, then receded back down the corridor. Her inheld breath was released in a whoosh as the echoing noise faded away.  
  
Gazing around the room she had just entered, Renee had to marvel at her luck. It appeared to be a staff room of sorts, complete with a list displaying all of the staff employed and the lesson they taught. Grinning, she walked over to it, running her finger down it, trying to locate a familiar name. Hagrid...McGonagall...Flitwick...Ah, there it is... No, Sinistra... Trelawny... Snape. There. She tapped a finger over it for a moment, then moved horizontally to the included information.  
  
Professor Severus Snape -------- Potions Master -------- Dungeons  
  
Still smiling, Renee slipped back out of the room. The Dungeons shouldn't be too difficult to find, as long as she headed down she shouldn't have a problem.  
  
Back outside the Great Hall, Renee called down her owl from the rafters, promising him a nice treat once she'd found what, or rather, who, she was looking for. Listening for a moment, the feast appeared to be in full swing. And so she took the downwards staircase, somewhat foreboding and gloomy, to wait. And wait she would, for however long it took for him to come. 


	3. Chapt 3

A/N - I know I said I hated Authors notes, but now I realize there's been one every chapter so far. Oh well. Guess I lied. Anyway, apologies for being so long in writing this chapter. Actually, it has been done for several months, I just forgot that it even existed, and then after school started I haven't had time for anything else besides homework. Really sorry!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
Severus left the Great Hall immediately following the students, leaving no question as to his mood as he stalked down to the dungeons. A couple of lingering second year Slytherins were sent scurrying ahead of him toward their common room, and Severus turned down a dark corridor towards his own rooms.  
  
Lupin! His mind snarled as he reached to door to his chambers, and he set about disarming the numerous charms. How dare he come here again! After what he is! After what he's done! Throughout the summer he had harbored the frail hope that the werewolf would never show. That maybe he'd stay hidden in the gutter where him and his kind belonged. With an internal yell of frustration, he slammed the door open so that it rattled in it's frame and threatened to shatter against the stone wall.  
  
But before he'd taken but two steps beyond the door a meek voice behind him halted him in his tracks. "What?" He ground out between clenched teeth as he pivoted around to face the owner of the voice.  
  
He froze. Before him stood Meara, him, his past and everything he had left behind. For a moment nothing moved besides his eyes. They flickered around in desperation as though searching for something, trying to look anywhere besides at what stood before him, and failing dreadfully.  
  
It was a joke. That was the only conclusion his mind would allow itself to reach. It was Potter and Granger and Weasley, and probably the werewolf as well, all set out to make his world a living hell.  
  
A sudden sound filled the damp corridor, and it took Severus a moment to realize that it had been he who had spoken.  
  
"Pardon?" came the reply, tinged with confusion and an unidentifiable emotion.  
  
"Stop it." He repeated in a louder voice that sounded a bit more like himself, the voice that he knew haunted the nightmares of more than one student. He tried again, repeated those two words, harsher this time, and a step was taken hastily in the other direction, away from him.  
  
Without a thought, he turned, grabbed the door with a white knuckled grip and slammed it shut. The sound reverberated through the floor and he felt the vibration through his thin-soled shoes. He sagged against the wall, surrendering his weight to it and watching the door apprehensively, as though expecting it to open.  
  
It didn't. But as Severus trembled behind it, a paper was slid beneath the door. His breath caught, but as he slowly leaned to pick it up, footsteps slowly receded from the door. Smoothing the paper as he brought it to his gaze, he read it with growing horror.  
  
Full Name: Renee Noami Snape  
  
Date of Birth: November 9th, 1980  
  
Place of Birth: Quebec City, Quebec, Canada  
  
Gender: Female  
  
Blood type: AB positive  
  
Parents: Mother: Meara Pascale Snape Deceased as of July, 1986  
  
Father: Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts Refusal to respond to notices  
  
Remaining living relatives: None  
  
Medical Issues (Allergies, etc): None  
  
The remainder of the page had been hastily ripped away.  
  
Oh God...  
  
  
  
Renee stood in shock as the door slammed.  
  
Of all the insufferable...  
  
She forcibly muted her anger and reached once again for the paper. She knelt to shove it under the door, but as she did her eyes caught the last few lines written on it. Her eyes darkened. He didn't need to know that. It seemed that he did not need another reason to hate her, as it seemed he already did. That was nothing new to her, she thought with renewed anger as she ripped away the bottom of the page and slipped the remainder under the door, standing stiffly and marching determinedly, if rather slowly, down the hall.  
  
She glanced once over her shoulder, looking rather forlornly at the one chance she'd let slip through her grasp, the one chance to return her life to some semblance of normality. She nearly tripped over her own feet as the door swung open. She stopped walking and apprehensively eyed the door just moments ago slammed in her face. Then, not allowing herself further thought, she steeled her expression and made her way back, hesitating only slightly at the threshold.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Like I said, this chapter was written a long time ago, and I actually don't think I originally intended for it to end there. But I can't for the life of me remember what was going to happen next. Heck, I can't even remember what it was that she ripped from the bottom of the sheet. Guess it's back to the drawing board..er..writing desk..computer...thing. Anyway, I'll try to post again as soon as I can, but no promises. 


End file.
